


War

by actingwithportals



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-02 00:03:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8643373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actingwithportals/pseuds/actingwithportals
Summary: I was given a Chelley angst prompt ages ago and I finally wrote something. Inspired by the song War by Icon For Hire (not released yet but should be within the next week so definitely check it out).





	

It was always his fault. Whether it was asking the wrong question, pushing the wrong buttons, making the wrong decisions, it was always Wheatley’s fault. He didn’t mean for it to be; he never intended to hurt her, but unfortunately everything he ever intended managed to find a way to backfire on him. 

Today was no different. Chell had always shown him patience beyond his understanding, but even angels had limits. Today, he found hers.

It didn’t matter what he did. It didn’t matter if it was something as small as breaking a plate or something as big as saying something disastrously awful. When it came to Wheatley’s mistakes, size made no difference. The consequences were dire, and there was never a way for him to salvage any hope from them. The only reason he had gotten by this far for so long was because of Chell’s longstanding kindness towards him that he never could have deserved.

Today, that kindness ran short, and Wheatley was afraid.

It wasn’t the way she raised her voice. She never raised her voice at him, not even now. It was the look in her eyes; the way their silver light dimmed to something worse than sinister. It was something darker, more painful. It was disappointment.

“I’m … sorry …”

“We’ve passed that haven’t we?” Chell breathed, her voice level and soft, a calm before a storm.

“W-we don’t have to … pass it? We could pretend it was never passed, couldn’t we? I’ll do better, I promise. I-I’ll do better …” Wheatley’s voice quivered, the incessant sound that came from his throat finally failing him.

“We’ve been through this before; it won’t pass.” Chell didn’t sound angry. She sounded tired, so so tired. She was always tired with him these days. His very existence seemed to dim the light in her eyes, and Wheatley was lost on how to correct this. It seemed the only solution was his absence, but he knew he couldn’t leave her of his own accord. He could never willfully leave her.

“I’ll do better-”

“No, you won’t. You never do better. You promise things will change but they don’t. You promise to try harder but you don’t. I can’t continue to carry you; you have to learn to walk on your own, but you won’t if I keep letting you lean against me like this.”

“Chell, please, I promise I will-”

“Stop!” Wheatley froze. He had never heard her voice raised so high before. Any words he had were caught in his throat, frozen by the icy look in her eyes. He was paralyzed, transfixed to ride the storm instead of running away like he so badly wanted.

“Just … stop. I can’t keep you above the water, and I sure as hell can’t drag you to shore. I’m drowning. I’m drowning because you’re drowning and I can’t hold on any longer. I’ve given you so much and you’ve given nothing in return. I’ve never asked you to stand on your own before because I thought I could be your feet for you but I can’t. I can’t and you can’t expect me to be what I’m not. I know what you’re made of and it’s far more than I can bear. This is one war I can’t win. Please … just stop.”

Wheatley made no move to respond. There was nothing he could say now. He knew she was right; he couldn’t argue with her. He could never argue with her. Even without the intellectual difference between them, there was no chance in him winning against her, nor could he deny his own incompetence. He knew she was right … but he had hoped she could have looked past it a little longer.

Wheatley had never had such luck.

“ … Okay. I’ll stop. If-If that’s what you want …” Wheatley looked down at his feet, no longer able to meet her eyes.

“It is,” Chell responded, her voice distant, returning to its stoic tone. She no longer looked at him as well, keeping her eyes to the wall on her right. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t face him anymore. Not after this, not after what she said. The rain had finally come and there was no going back, not now.

On the surface things looked perfect, but underneath it was nothing more than a perfect storm. And Chell had finally let Wheatley go to the waves.

The war was over.


End file.
